Never Say Never
by r4ven3
Summary: Harry decides to not accept Ruth's decision to turn down his invitation to have dinner a second time, but he has a battle on his hands, some of which is internal. Yet another one shot which became more. 6 chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Thanks to Sparky75 who (ages ago) provided me some one shot prompts. This was meant be be a one shot, but as usual, it got out of hand.**_

* * *

He is not about to give up on her. To do so would not be in his nature. He is a fighter not a quitter, and that also applies to his personal dealings with women ….. not that there have been many of late. None, in fact. Since Ruth had entered his peripheral vision and very gradually drawn closer, he has not been interested in chasing any woman other than her. And in his past he has chased them …... relentlessly. First it would be the heat – the lust, the urge - then what normally came next was the sex. If he still desired the woman, the next step would be dinner. A liaison which began with sex would normally last no more than a month. Most had barely made it to the second week. Conquering them, plundering them, pushing into them, placing part of himself inside them and then watching them while they lost control, because he'd been skilled at withholding his own pleasure while he led them through theirs ….. that was what it was all about ….. had once been about, because now, since Ruth, the order of things has changed. She is a different kind of woman, and to gain and then maintain her interest he has had to become a different kind of man.

The change in him had occurred slowly over time. He began to notice a change in his own inner dialogue at the time Danny Hunter had been brutally murdered, sacrificing his own life for that of a woman with a child, a family. He had expected nothing less from Danny, but nor had he demanded that level of sacrifice. Danny had made a split second decision which had saved Fiona's life. In that instant Danny had become a hero; he had died a hero, and Ruth had mourned him ….. deeply. As he had stood watching Ruth as she stroked Danny's lifeless face, Harry had made a split second decision of his own. It was at that moment while he watched Ruth from a distance that he decided he would become the kind of man Ruth Evershed might be able to love. If he achieved nothing else between that moment and his last, to have her love him would be his own personal triumph.

It had been quite easy in the end. He soon learned to let go of any semblance of bluster, and any inkling of being the overbearing boss, for fear she'd see him as controlling. She had called him a number of times about the way he had spoken either to her or to one of the other members of his team. It became apparent that being treated as an equal was important to Ruth. In her quiet and unassuming way, she commanded respect. It was clear to him that she respected him as a boss and rather liked him as a person. As he saw it, that represented a good start, but he still had a long way to go. All he had to do was to not try too hard (which would arouse Ruth's suspicions) and to not come across as a sleazy older man lusting after a much younger woman. All he had to do was to walk the thinnest of tightropes until …... until Ruth noticed him, and hopefully grew to love him. As unlikely as that outcome appeared to him, Harry had maintained his optimism.

In the end he had relaxed and allowed himself to be who he really was, and this seemed to have done the trick. They had grown closer, becoming friends, developing trust, flirting occasionally, frequently holding one another's gaze for much longer than necessary. He lived for the moments when Ruth had watched him as he was watching her. He had felt the heat rising in his body, and by the flush on Ruth's face, she had been similarly affected. It was at these times that he had again felt like a teenager, lusting after a girl who was always going to be just out of his reach.

He had chosen his moment well – the moment when he'd asked her to have dinner with him. He'd been nervous about asking her; after all, it had been a long time since he'd asked a woman about whom he cared so much to go out with him. Smiling into his eyes she had said yes, as he'd hoped she would. He'd been sure she would. It's just that when she'd assured him she would meet him at the restaurant, he'd had to look away for fear she'd glimpse his joyful smile.

It had been his first real victory with her. The next was when she – as promised – turned up at the restaurant only a minute late. He had been clock-watching since 7.18 pm. Of course he had arrived early, nervously sitting over a drink at the bar, his eyes on the front door. As soon as she'd entered the restaurant he had seen her. She'd looked around the room, and when their eyes had met her face had visibly relaxed into a smile, and he had smiled back. Using a baseball analogy, he was already at first base.

It had been a wonderful night, even better than he'd hoped. Afterwards he had driven her home, their conversation quiet, dripping out in a sentence here, an observation there. He'd walked her to her front door, his hand under her elbow. He'd stood next to her while she'd dipped a hand into her clutch bag for her keys, and then he'd taken the keys from her fingers and opened her front door for her. When he'd dipped his head to kiss her cheek, she'd turned her face slightly so that their lips had met. It was their first kiss, and as his lips brushed hers he vowed to remember it forever. Perhaps the touch of their lips had lasted less than a second, and as he had opened his eyes he had seen the light shining in hers. That moment was carved into his memory, where it would remain always. He had asked her to again join him for dinner. She'd hesitated then, and he'd felt that small clench of his stomach muscles as his level of anxiety rose.

"I'll get back to you about that," she'd said, her eyes wide and dark in the dim light of her doorway.

Harry had again bid her goodnight, turning to walk back to his car. There had been something slightly off kilter about her answer, but he'd not examined it too closely. This was Ruth, and she was not like other women, which was one of the (many) reasons he loved her.

And love her he did. It had been a slow burn attraction which had become love, creeping up on him while his attention had been elsewhere, worrying about how his team would regroup after the latest tragic death. There at the centre of each of his days had been Ruth ….. steady, optimistic, wise, engaging Ruth, and he had no idea how he'd managed to live the first fifty years of his life without her.

* * *

Two days later his hopes had come crashing down.

She'd turned down his invitation to a second dinner. To him her reasons sounded …... unreasonable. It was not like Ruth to be irrational, and yet that was the word which kept hurtling around inside his head as she explained why it was she couldn't have dinner with him again.

And then she had turned and left his office. There was nothing more to be said. Her intention was clear. They were over before they had even begun. And yet …... somewhere deep within his gut, Harry knew that he and Ruth had not yet finished with one another. He knew there was still something there …... something exciting and delicate and tangible, something worth nurturing. He knew … that she knew …. that while they had sat opposite one another at the table over dinner, talking of Grand Tours and thermobaric bombs and Harry's ideal travelling companion …... they both knew he'd been describing her, and she'd been interested ….. and rather pleased. Despite her response to the contrary, he had been certain she'd want to do it again. He just had to find the right way of convincing her.

It was late in the afternoon when he at last found some free time to head to the roof for some air. He needed thinking time, and for that he needed to be alone and away from the Grid. He needed to be able to make sense of Ruth's reply. Despite it being mid July, the sky was overcast and some time during the day a wind had whipped up. Harry felt the little hair he had on his scalp lifted by the breeze as he stared ahead, seeing nothing. Her words whirled around in his head. `People are laughing'; `It undermines you'; `I can't stand it …. sorry.' Being laughed about is hardly a reason they shouldn't be spending time together outside work, and if he's undermined by the gossiping of a few members of his team, then he's not the leader he's meant to be. There has to be another reason – a deeper reason, but Ruth had turned and left his office before he could properly question her. His phone rings and reluctantly he retreives it from his jacket pocket, grimacing as he looks at the screen.

"Foreign Secretary," he says, once again moving with ease from the personal to the professional.

* * *

There are only two days until the Africa Summit talks at Havensworth Hotel, and every member of Section D has a job to do. Harry is relieved that Ruth will not be going to the hotel for the talks. Perhaps they need time away from one another, rather than bubbling around together in the cauldron of the Grid. Forward planning seems to be going smoothly with Ros and Adam in charge of the organising, so again Harry takes himself up to the roof balcony to get some air. As he stands at the balustrade, hands in his pockets as he gazes across the roof tops, he remembers the day, less than a week earlier, when standing here with Ruth, he'd asked her to have dinner with him and she had said yes. It had been only five days ago, and yet already it feels like a lifetime. He lifts his eyes to the sky above and sighs heavily. It is a very long time since he's been this disturbed by a woman, and he doesn't enjoy the sense of no longer being in control of his life and his emotions. He has allowed Ruth Evershed to get under his skin, when he should have nipped it in the bud before it had had a chance to develop.

But should he? Everyone needs someone. People need to love and to be loved. It has taken him almost 53 years of life to reach that conclusion. Remarkably it had been an unassuming but unique intelligence analyst who had crawled under his impenetrable defences and stayed there …... and now she's there, he doesn't want her to leave.

Harry doesn't hear the opening of the door to the roof, but he senses someone moving closer. He knows that it is neither Adam nor Ros, either of whom would have announced themselves as soon as they had stepped onto the roof. He knows who it is and he's surprised. For the past few days they've been avoiding one another. She stands beside him at the balustrade, some distance between them. He can feel her eyes on him, so he turns his head to look into those eyes. To his surprise she is smiling.

"I thought I'd find you here," she says.

Harry nods and returns her smile. "I needed some air."

Ruth looks away, gazing ahead of her. Harry is still watching her and he can sense her discomfort. His instinct is to move closer to her, to grasp her hand and squeeze it reassuringly. He stays where he is. "You have something to tell me?" he says, to which Ruth nods.

A few minutes pass before Ruth speaks. "I know that I've …... hurt you -"

"Ruth -"

"No, let me speak ….. Harry."

"I was under the impression you already had." As soon as the words are spoken he regrets them. Of course he's hurt. He just hadn't wanted her to know how much.

"I'm here to explain, Harry. You didn't take my explanation terribly well."

"That's because I don't believe it."

Harry has turned to face her, one elbow resting on the balustrade. Ruth has moved a little closer to him, close enough for him to touch her should he reach out towards her. He expects her to be angry with him. He _wants_ her to be angry with him. Anything is better than her intellectual coolness, holding him at arm's length, watching him, assessing him, waiting for him to continue.

"I don't believe that you – an intelligent woman – can be so upset by others' …. laughing, gossiping …. that you would turn down ….. something I believe you want."

He'd expected her to scoff, laugh, be angry, storm off in disgust – anything. Ruth watches him closely, and Harry can see that her mind is working overtime, searching for an answer.

"We were ….. good together, Ruth, and I believe that …... that scared you. Perhaps I scare you …... but …... I think you are more scared by your own …... attraction to me. I know how you feel. It ….. petrifies me, too."

"Petrifies?"

"I'm afraid, Ruth, but ….. only because I can think of little else other than ….. you, and how much I want to see you again."

Ruth sighs heavily, turns and goes back to looking out over London. Harry takes another small step closer to her, but not too close.

"Tell me you don't have a similar reaction. Tell me you're not afraid."

The noise from the street below is just enough to drown out the sound of the roof door opening. There, Ros Myers stands, still not having stepped onto the roof, contemplating the scene in front of her. The words `awkward situation' spring to mind. She has heard the gossip, and she doesn't much care. Other people's private lives hold no interest for her, although were she being honest, she believes Harry could do with some down time. If Ruth is the woman Harry has chosen, and if they have a thing happening, then she's fine with that, although she'd rather they conducted whatever-it-is away from work. Still, she's not about to be the one to interrupt it. She'll tell the Home Secretary that Harry is temporarily indisposed. She turns and quietly closes the door. Nicholas Blake will have to wait.

Harry watches Ruth, noticing that she is not absolutely still. Her hands are now on the balustrade, and her fingers wind around a tissue she'd been holding in one hand. Busy hands mean a busy mind. Ruth is thinking.

"Tell me, Ruth," he repeats. "I don't buy that about others laughing at us. They all have their own lives. Why should they care about what we do?"

Suddenly, Ruth turns to look at him, her eyes wide. "Malcolm said …... he said he was happy for us. He thought it was …. wonderful that we had ….."

"That's not laughing, Ruth," he says gently. "That's ….. what he said it was."

"But they know. They'll gossip."

"For about five minutes. By the time we go on our third date, they will have moved on to something else."

"_Third_ date? You still want us to …..?"

"Of course I do. Don't you?"

What follows is around the longest three minutes of Harry's life. Ruth turns away again, staring out over the grey skyline, her fingers still busily shredding the tissue. He wants to step closer to her and take those hands between his own, stilling her fingers, settling her visible anxiety. Then he wants to take her in his arms and hold her until she is calm. He stays standing by the balustrade, watching her, hoping for a different outcome. All he wants is for her to be truthful with him, truthful with herself. His instincts tell him that she wants to see him again almost as much as he wants to see her.

When she begins speaking, she is still staring ahead of her, her eyes gazing over the rooftops. "I …. I hoped that after we had dinner, you'd …... not ask me again."

"Why, Ruth? Wasn't the dinner …. lovely? Did you not enjoy it?"

Ruth turns briefly to nod in his direction. "It was lovely, yes." She turns back to staring over the rooftops. "I know you're …. interested in me -"

"I'm more than interested, Ruth."

"As I am in you. I haven't been as …. invested in an outcome in a very long time, but it's ….. we can''t do it again." She turns to look at him again, and this time he can see the distress in her eyes, and how close she is to tears. "We can't, Harry. It won't happen. Please don't ask me again."

"But you just said -"

"I know I did. I've given you false hope … and I shouldn't have."

"Is there someone else, Ruth?" His voice is gentle, and he works hard to not plead. Ruth will not respond well to his pleading. "Did you go to dinner with me to get over someone else, or to …. make someone else jealous?"

"No. Of course not. That would have been cruel."

"But ….. _this_ is cruel. Saying no to us ….. to what we could be ….. _that's_ cruel."

"It won't work, Harry. It can't. You mustn't think about it."

"Jesus, Ruth. For the past few months I've thought of little else. Haven't you? Why can't you just ….. _trust_ me?"

This time he has said too much. Ruth turns from the balustrade, and before he can step towards her and stop her, she has crossed to the door, opened it, and gone inside. By the time he reaches the top of the stairwell, he can hear her footsteps rapidly descending the stairs. He sighs heavily and follows her, but slowly. How could something so promising so suddenly turn to dust? How can he switch off his mind so that he no longer thinks of her with fondness …... with love? Well, he can't …... and he won't.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: Thank you for the enthusiastic response to Ch 1. Here's the next bit**_. _**Oh, and rude-word-alert.**_

* * *

It is six days later when Harry again sees Ruth alone and away from the Grid. She had run from him one night in the Havensworth hotel, and he knows she hadn't wanted to. He had noticed the way her eyes roamed over his body before she'd turned and rapidly retreated to her hotel room. On their first night back on the Grid, Ruth had comforted him after Ros had chastised him over her father's gaol sentence, and he had chosen to not take advantage of that. Were he being honest with himself he hadn't wanted to pursue her when she left his office after grasping his arm. He'd been exhausted – by the conference, by his need for sleep, by Ros' tearing strips off him, but mostly he'd been exhausted by thinking far too much about Ruth, and that rendered him vulnerable. He just wanted to forget about her, but the harder he tried to wipe thoughts of her from his mind, the more persistent those thoughts became. He found himself concocting scenarios in which they'd fall into one another's arms, agreeing to give themselves another chance.

Just six days after the Havensworth conference had ended Harry is sitting in his office checking a report Ruth had left on his desk while he'd been attending a meeting upstairs. He knows all the facts will check, and that her overview and conclusions will be apt and accurate. He tells himself he is reading it through because of a need to be informed. The truth is that any contact with Ruth – even reading the words she has composed in that brain of hers – has him believing he is closer to her than he really is. They have spent the last few days each surreptitiously watching the other, while no progress of any kind has been made.

Harry feels rather than hears someone at his office door. "Harry," Ros says from the doorway. "I think you might need to rescue Ruth."

"What? Is she in danger?"

"Not yet, but she might soon be. I was just at Dexter's -"

"The pub?"

"Yes. I had to meet an asset – one from years ago – and as I was leaving I saw Ruth sitting in the corner, nursing a drink. I asked was she alright and she told me to fuck off, and whilst I can sympathise with the sentiment, I thought it unusual for Ruth to speak like that, even to me -"

"That is unusual, yes. How long ago was this?"

"Around twenty minutes. I thought you might have more ….. success with her than I had."

"I'm not sure I'm the right person, but …."

"She'll listen to you, Harry."

"Perhaps. Thank you, Ros. I'll handle it."

Harry pockets his phone, checks he has his house keys, then turns out the light in his office before locking the door behind him. He leaves Thames House on foot and hurries through the streets to Dexter's, a small corner pub, normally frequented by those who work in and around Whitehall. He can't imagine why Ruth is in there, and what has motivated her uncharacteristic behaviour, although he has a fair idea. As soon as he enters the bar he spies her. She is sitting alone at a table near the back of the room, and even from a distance Harry can see how miserable she appears. Her mood may have nothing at all to do with him, but he's prepared to believe otherwise. He has arrived just in time, He is almost to her table when a lone man approaches her and appears about to sit down opposite her. Harry steps up to him from behind and places a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Excuse me, but she's with me," Harry says, close to the man's ear.

"You left her alone, mate."

"The last person to call me mate ended up in hospital in traction," Harry hisses, close to the man's face.

Harry notices that the man is much younger than he – perhaps in his late thirties – and he has neat brown hair and an equally neat charcoal grey suit with a pale mauve tie …... and he wears a wedding ring. "Go home to your wife, and leave the lady alone."

Luckily the man turns and leaves quickly, leaving Harry standing across the table from Ruth. He hesitates, watching Ruth carefully. She lifts her glass in his direction. "Cheers," is all she says, so he pulls out a chair and sits down.

"What are you doing, Ruth?" His voice is quiet, but loud enough for Ruth to hear.

"What does it look like? I'm drowning my sorrows."

This is not a Ruth with whom he is familiar. He's only ever seen Ruth inebriated twice, and each time she'd been more tipsy than legless. "You shouldn't be here on your own," he says quietly, leaning towards her. "It's not safe."

He sees Ruth's eyes widen and her mouth moves as if to form words, but speaking seems to suddenly be beyond her. Harry would like to take her arm and lead her out of here, take her home and see her safely inside. He has a sense she may not be terribly cooperative, so he sits back and watches her. She is drinking white wine, so she shouldn't be drunk. He's seen her knock back a whole bottle on her own with little effect.

"What's wrong, Ruth? It's not like you to drink alone."

Ruth's eyes shoot up to meet his. "How do you know? If I want to drink alone, then I'll drink alone, whether you like it or not."

Harry hesitates before continuing. As belligerent as she is, he's determined to get to the bottom of her atypical behaviour. "What's this all about, Ruth? You seem quite ….. angry."

"And you think I shouldn't be?" Ruth knocks back the remainder of the wine in her glass before she places the glass very carefully on the table. "I think I could do with a coffee now."

Harry quickly gets up and crosses to the bar where he orders and pays for two coffees. He is relieved that Ruth has decided to not drink any more wine. When he returns to her table he sits and then looks across at her to see tears in her eyes. "Ruth …... talk to me. What's wrong?" She doesn't answer for some time. It is clear to him that she is enduring some kind of inner battle which perhaps even she doesn't undertand. He hopes he has not been the cause of her being upset.

"You're going to think I'm quite mad," she says at last, after their cups of coffee have been delivered to their table.

"Try me. I'm sure I've heard worse."

She looks up at him and smiles, and it is then he sees tears glistening in her eyes. "I always muck up relationships ….."

"You're not alone there, Ruth. I've …... mucked up …... every relationship I've ever had."

"So you see …... we're unlikely to be …..." Ruth is still watching him while she struggles to find the right words, and Harry wonders – not for the first time – how someone so competent with language can be so inarticulate in her personal life. "I especially muck up the ones which matter the most to me." Ruth breaks eye contact with him and turns her coffee cup one full rotation on its saucer. "I've never managed to sustain a relationship – with a man – for longer than a few months, and I suspect that you're …. looking for more than one or two dinner dates ….. with me."

Once she has finished speaking Ruth doesn't look up at Harry, so he knows it his his turn to speak. He notices that despite the burr of conversation from all around them, interpersed with occasional bursts of laughter, they are having no difficulty in hearing one another above the ambient noise. "Yes …. with you …... I am looking for …. more than I normally ….. look for."

"And what is it you usually …. look for?" Ruth's eyes are on him now, steely grey and confronting.

"I haven't sought out a …... relationship …... that is, a proper relationship with a woman in some time. In the past I have had brief …. encounters for …..."

"For sex?"

"Yes, for sex. What I want with you is something ….. meaningful and far more …... and I think we both deserve that. I believe …. I _hope_ ... that we can be …... very good together."

They again fall silent while they sip their coffees. Then Ruth sits very still, watching him as he carefully places his cup back on its saucer.

"That's what I suspected," she says at last.

"Do you have a problem with that? I _am_ looking for more with you. I'm not wanting to just take you to bed."

"But you'd like to anyway."

"Of course. I _am_ attracted to you in that way. I think you know that."

Ruth nods, and Harry notices a slight smile on her lips. "As I am to you."

"Then …... I don't undertand the problem, Ruth …... especially since we're each attracted to the other …... possibly in equal measure."

"It's not that simple ….. Harry."

"It _is_ that simple."

Ruth sits back in her chair, looking up at Harry briefly and then down again to her hands which are now clasped in her lap. There is a very long moment during which Ruth examines her hands, while Harry leans further forward in his chair, trying to gain her attention. Suddenly a group of three men push past them, bumping the back of Harry's chair. His response is one of irritation, and he is about to suggest to Ruth that they go elsewhere, when she begins speaking, her voice a quiet monotone.

"I don't want to happen to us what has happened in my previous relationships. I've invested too much in the outcome of all my relationships, and then the …. man … has tired of me and moved on to someone more interesting, someone prettier, someone who makes him look good, someone more adventurous in bed. It always happens that way ….. except for Aidan Clothier. I ended it with him ….. he was …. unpleasant when I got to know him better, but all the others have left me for someone better, usually after having cheated on me."

When she stops speaking, Harry waits a long moment before replying. "Those men were clearly idiots, Ruth. They couldn't have had anyone better, more wonderful than you." He sips his coffee, all the time watching Ruth, waiting for her to give him eye contact. "Are you thinking that the same will happen with us?"

Ruth nods, and when she lifts her eyes to him he can see how unhappy she is. He wants to get up and sit next to her, pull her against him and tell her it will be alright, but even he is not certain of that.

"I'm not some gauche boy, Ruth. I've been like the men you describe, but at the time I was rather young and insensitive. I know that I'm different now, and …... I can guarantee I'll not be treating you that way." When she doesn't reply, he simply keeps going. "I've had my own fears about us. You're young and attractive. You could have anyone. I wonder why it is you even went to dinner with me in the first place."

"Because I wanted to. Because ….. you know why ..."

"I worry that we'll get close and then you'll meet someone younger and more suited to you..."

"I won't."

"You don't know that, Ruth. You might. But even with those many …... undesirable possibilities hanging over us, I still want to give us a chance …... a second chance. Don't you?"

This time Ruth looks his straight in the eye and nods. "Yes. I do ….. but -"

"No buts, Ruth. We have to communicate openly, and I have to confess that I've never been terribly good at that. All my previous partners …... and there have only been a very few whom I would class as `partners' ….. they have all complained about my reticence. We'll have to each learn to be more open and …. honest with one another. No more excuses about whether the others are gossiping about us."

"I don't like being gossiped about."

"No-one does, Ruth, but we can't control the behaviour of others. We mustn't allow what they say to hurt us." Harry lifts his coffee cup and takes another sip, carefully placing it in its saucer. Ruth is watching him, her eyes following his fingers and then resting on his lips. "What would you rather, Ruth ….. that we spend some time together, and perhaps find that we enjoy being together, or we stop this now and don't even give it a chance, just because others might be gossiping? I know which I prefer."

Ruth nods, and Harry can see no sign of the tears which had earlier been about to fall. To him she seems calmer, happier, and more relaxed. "I'd rather like to go home now."

* * *

Harry gives the taxi driver Ruth's address, and then settles back against the seat, leaving a space between he and Ruth. He doesn't wish to crowd her. As much as he would like to have dinner with her the next evening, he is prepared to allow her time in which to get used to the idea. They travel in silence until they are only a few streets from Ruth's house.

"I'd quite like to try again."

"Did you just say what I thought I heard you say?" Harry turns his head to see Ruth looking up at him.

"I'd like to have dinner with you …... again …... soon …... if you want to, that is."

Harry nods as he watches her face carefully, looking for any sign that she is not being genuine. With her face turned up to his, the reflection from the streetlights flicking across their faces, she looks endearingly vulnerable, and he longs to kiss her. The moment is shattered when the car slows, and the driver says, "We're here," and then announces the cost of the fare.

Harry asks the driver to wait while he helps Ruth out of the taxi and then accompanies her to her front door.

"I'd quite like it if you came inside with me," she says, having unlocked her door. They stand in the open doorway, neither knowing what would be the correct thing to be doing right now.

"As much as I would really like that, Ruth, I'm going to head straight home." Since the broken moment in the taxi, something has shifted between them. Some obstacle – a wall of reserve - which had previously been there between them is now gone. Ruth's face shows her disappointment. "But if you'll agree to have dinner with me tomorrow night, then …... I might like to be invited in for coffee afterwards."

Ruth smiles, and then turns towards him, reaching up to slide her hand around his neck. Harry is momentarily shocked by her action, until he feels his face being drawn closer to hers. He allows the kiss to happen, like they do it all the time. This time it is not a brief touch of lips. It is a proper kiss, and he slides his hands around her waist to pull her against him. The kiss is only briefly passionate, and as their mouths open briefly he can taste the hint of wine on her tongue. "Tomorrow night," he says, before he places his lips on hers in a brief goodbye, and then he turns and heads back to the taxi, a broad smile on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

For much of the next day Harry is flat out at work, but he makes time to make a booking for a table for two at _Constanza's_, a warm and casual Italian eatery where Catherine had taken him one evening a few months earlier while she was briefly back in the country to edit her latest documentary. He knows Ruth enjoys Italian food, and he is almost certain she'd be more relaxed were they to eat somewhere casual.

It is mid afternoon when Ruth slides open his office door, bringing him her latest threat assessment report. "I thought I'd drop this off now, seeing that ….. we're ..."

"Having dinner together tonight," Harry finishes for her.

Ruth nods, smiling shyly up at him. "I wasn't sure whether the dinner was still on."

"Of course it's still on. There are no pending terror attacks; the country has not descended into chaos, you and I are fit and healthy. This time I'm picking you up from your place. 7.30? And it's _Constanza's_, so it's -"

"Oh, lovely. I've heard it's good. Jo has been there. I look forward to it."

They are each grinning at the other. He doesn't want her to leave his office, and it's clear she is happy to just stand there, smiling at him. Only 24 hours previously this outcome had seemed impossible.

"You can leave early today, Ruth."

"Why? I still have heaps to do."

"I thought you might need time to ….. you know …." Harry is suddenly embarrassed by his own suggestion …... that she needs time to go home and make herself beautiful. She'd still be beautiful to him were she dressed in a hessian sack. He sighs heavily, carefully watching her face.

"I'll stay until 5."

Harry nods and allows his smile to fade. They are at work after all.

From across the Grid Ros Myers has been observing the whole interaction. Her mouth twists in a semi-sneer. She just wishes they'd close the the blinds in Harry's office and work off a little of the sexual tension which crackles between them, but preferably after she's left for the day.

* * *

Matt Mercurio is serving Table 7, where a couple sit engrossed in one another. He is used to interrupting people who are lost in one another. He has even had to take the order of several couples when they were in the middle of a spat, and one memorable couple who insisted on speaking to one another through him. The couple at Table 7 are unusual. Matt has studied psychology at the University of Western Australia. He even completed his Masters, and that's when the travelling bug bit him. He's been working at _Constanza's_ for three months. He likes people, and he enjoys observing the people who dine at the restaurant, imagining their individual stories. The couple at Table 7 intrigue him. The man is middle aged while the woman is much younger. They are clearly enamoured of one another, and if his instincts serve him correctly they are new at this - the dating side of things.

"Good evening. My name's Matt and I'll be looking after you this evening."

He then continues with his spiel about the specials and the wine. The woman smiles up at him and he is momentarily drawn in by her very blue eyes, while the man just gazes across the table at his companion. He likes the way the man discusses the wine with her before he chooses. He decides then that they will not want him interrupting them throughout the evening. He will visit their table, enquire about their needs, and then make himself scarce.

Once the waiter leaves, Ruth reaches out towards Harry and he takes the hint and grasps her hand in his own. Her hand is quite cold, so he rubs her skin with his fingers, all the time watching her. He could watch her all night, and to hell with food, wine and sparkling conversation.

"He was Australian," Ruth says at last.

"Who was?"

"Matt. The waiter. Good looking, too."

"I really didn't notice. I was sure his accent was South African." Ruth smiles widely, and Harry wonders is this actually happening. "I'm expecting to wake from this dream, to find myself alone in bed with a hangover."

Ruth reaches across with her other hand and takes his hand between both hers. "You have beautiful hands," she says, turning his hand over to examine his palm. It is when she runs her fingertips across the skin of his palm that he shudders with pleasure. Harry had always believed that nothing about him could possibly be called beautiful.

Their chat is light and playful, and they both hope that nothing will happen to break the spell. The Grid and matters of national security do not feature in their conversation. They are each taking their time over their main courses when Ruth brings the conversation back to their previous dinner date.

"Harry …... when you mentioned the cities of Europe – during our first dinner together – and you described your ideal travel companion …... were you ….."

"I was referring to you, Ruth. I was describing you. I thought that to be obvious."

"I was hoping you meant me, but I wasn't sure. I mean …. you could have your pick of a whole host of women."

Harry pushes his plate away. He has eaten more than enough, and he'd like to leave some room for the home made profiteroles which the waiter had recommended. He sits back and wipes his mouth with a napkin, and then places it beside his plate. "For the past …... year at least, it's only been you, Ruth. I've tried hard to not be ….. attracted to you, but …... I've failed badly."

"Is becoming attracted to someone a failure?"

"When I'm your boss, and I'm divorced, and my relationship history is messy, and you're a much younger, beautiful, compassionate and forgiving woman …... yes. I should never have allowed this to happen, but we're here now, and ….. just maybe what we both need the most is each other."

It is a minute or so before Ruth replies. Harry watches her, feeling a little worried that he may have said too much, declared himself to her too soon, before she is ready. He has never been good in his personal relationships; he either says nothing at all, or he declares his feelings too early or at the wrong time. He feels his heart rate increase as she appears to struggle to find the right words. As he sees it, this night is an opportunity for them to regain the ground lost since the last time they had dinner together.

Eventually, Ruth takes a breath, lifting her eyes to him, her expression shy, perhaps even embarrassed. "I have also tried to deny my attraction to you," she begins quietly, "and I believed that I was succeeding, too. A month or so ago Jo made a comment about us – you and me …... like she expected me to know something about you which was not in the public domain. It shocked me that she was able to see that …... there was something there …... between us."

"I'm sure they all know, Ruth, and it's not because anyone has said anything, or told them anything. They have eyes, and instincts, and they see things. They see what it is we've both tried to hide. They're trained to be able to do that in the field, so I'd be shocked were they not able to do that amongst the people they work with."

Ruth sighs, and then takes a hefty swig of her red wine. "The more I think about it …. us …. the more I think we should just …... go with the flow."

"Go with the flow? I'm sure I've never heard you recommending that approach, Ruth, and I must say that I'm ….. a little shocked. I see you as someone with a plan."

"You're right. I prefer to know where I'm going, and when and with whom, but ….. for once I'm enjoying not knowing where this is taking us." Ruth looks down briefly before she again lifts her eyes to his. "And I have to tell you, Harry, that not ….. knowing where ….. _this_ is going is causing me a lot of …... discomfort."

Harry finds himself relaxing, and he feels himself smiling into her eyes, which are still searching his face. "Back before the Havensworth summit I can remember asking you to trust me …."

Ruth nods. "I remember that. I ….. walked away from you. I was …."

"Angry with me?"

"I think I was more angry with myself, Harry ….. and scared, too, I believe. It takes a … lot for me to …. take a risk such as this." Ruth is tracing patterns with her finger on the tablecloth. Harry is learning that when she acts in this way it is to give herself time in which to respond truthfully. At least, he hopes that is what is happening. "Sometimes …... well, most of the time, it seems …. you have the knack for putting your finger right on the nub of the matter. With the other men I've been …... involved with, the common factor was their …. betrayal of my trust. I trusted them, opened myself up to them, and they …. dumped me, or cheated on me, so as you can see ….."

"Trusting a man is difficult for you."

"Yes."

"I'm not like those men, Ruth. I've learned the hard way that to ….. act in that way is a sure way to lose a woman's trust. Ruth …... you have to trust me …... even if you don't want to, or if it's difficult for you."

"I know."

This time it is Harry who reaches across the table, taking one of Ruth's hands in his. He chooses her right hand, the one with which she'd been drawing patterns with her index finger on the tablecloth. He curls his fingers around her fingers, so that for her to pull away would require a surge of strength. He needs to touch her in this way, and he hopes she doesn't mind. If the softness in her eyes is an indication of her mood, then she doesn't mind in the least.

From the serviery, Matt Mercurio can see that the people on Table 7 need their table cleared, but he also doesn't wish to interrupt what is so clearly an important conversation.

"Move your backside, Matt," the head chef throws at him, walking past him on his way to the fridge. "Chop chop."

Matt dislikes the head chef. Chef thinks the restaurant is all about him, but Matt believes it's about the diners, the people who choose to remove themselves from their everyday lives to spend private time together for a few hours in the dining room of _Constanza's_. He takes his time wending his way through the dining room, while at the same time appearing to hurry.

"Will there be anything else …. sir .. madam?" he asks the couple at Table 7, as he deftly removes their plates from the table. When there is no answer, he looks at each of the two people at the table to find their eyes locked each on the other. He'd surmised they were a couple who may have been meeting again after a long separation, or perhaps a newly together couple, getting to know one another. Something tells him they don't fit into either of these categories. Either way, he envies them their powerful attraction to each other, and their honest and open gazes. He has difficulty remaining interested in a woman beyond the two week mark; there are just too many women in the world for him to become hung up on one. He is about to leave them to it when the man turns to him and speaks.

"A serving of the profiteroles for me, and …... Ruth ….. what would you like?"

Ruth. Matt had imagined her name to be Amelia, or Julia. No, Ruth suits her. She appears to him to be sensible, but if the longing glances she is giving her companion are anything to go by, a passionate heart beats within.

"Nothing more for me, thank you," she says, smiling up at Matt. He nods and leaves them to it. Privately he thinks they won't stay for the man to eat his profiteroles, which won't be a bad thing. As delicious as Chef's profiteroles are, he considers the couple need to go somewhere more private and take a few risks with each other. Life is short, much shorter than we expect. Two summers ago Matt's best mate was taken by a shark while surfing at Mandurah, and his body was never found. Anything can happen at any time.

It is less than ten minutes later when Matt is about to deliver dessert to Table 7, and he sees the man and Ruth heading out the door together.

"Leave the profiteroles," the head waiter says, nodding towards the couple, the door closing behind them. "You can have them once we close."

Once they are seated together in the back seat of the taxi, Harry turns to Ruth. "Your place or mine?"

"I believe I promised you coffee."

"I believe you did too," Harry replies, settling back against the upholstery, smiling across at Ruth. He gives the driver Ruth's address, and then takes her hand and links his fingers through hers. There is so much he wishes to say, but this is neither the time nor the place.


	4. Chapter 4

While she is in the kitchen making coffee Harry tries to start the gas fire . She hears his attempts and calls out. "You have to hold down the green button while you press the black one." Harry does as she suggests and the fire bursts into life. If Ruth lived with him in his house, she'd never have to grapple with old technology such as this. He knows he's getting ahead of himself. They have only just been on their second date, and he's already considering how life would be were he and Ruth to be a couple, living under the same roof. This has never happened to him before, not even with Jane. He wants this. He wants a life with Ruth. He knows it will work – him and her – because they are so compatible at work, and if they can work together smoothly, then surely the rest will just follow. Won't it? All he knows is that when she is not with him he longs for her, and his body aches for her. He just hopes that she feels the same way about him.

Ruth carries their coffee into the living room on a tray. Harry stands as she approaches, reaching out to take the tray from her hands.

"You should have asked for help, Ruth," he says, not looking at her as he carefully places the tray on the coffee table. He knows how she takes her coffee, so he pours for each of them, adding the right amount of milk and sugar.

"I'm impressed," Ruth says, taking the mug from Harry's hand, allowing her fingers to linger over his for just a moment longer than necessary as she smiles into his eyes.

They sit some distance apart on the sofa, sipping their coffees in silence. They are each aware of the current of electricity which arcs between them, ebbing and flowing along with their levels of tension. Eventually, Harry puts his coffee back on the tray.

"I shouldn't stay long," he says, turning to look at Ruth, who is temporarily distracted by one of her cats who stalks across the floor in front of them, ignoring the humans on the sofa as he heads towards the fire. "We both have work tomorrow."

"You could stay."

Harry darts a glance at Ruth to find her watching him over the rim of her mug, her eyes wide and dark. _Stormy_ is the word which leaps into his mind. "Are you serious?" he asks.

This time Ruth takes her time over placing her coffee cup back on the tray. When she leans back she turns to him. "I've never been more serious about anything."

"Ruth …... this is only our second date. We have …... plenty of time."

"What are you afraid of, Harry? I'm offering you …... what I suspect you want, and you're ….. backing off."

"Yes, I want that …. with you, but …... I don't want you to be offering me what _I_ want if it's not what _you_ want also."

"It's what I want. Tonight ….. at the restaurant …... it became clear to me that we need to ….. go there."

Harry leans against the back of the sofa and sighs heavily. "Other than a few kisses we've barely touched, Ruth. We need more time before ….."

"Do _you_ need more time?"

Harry turns to face her. "No, Ruth. I've been ready for this for …..." _Such a long time._ "I'm not sure that _we_ are ready."

When Ruth doesn't answer he turns to see her gazing at a spot on her skirt, and then she begins picking at this spot with her fingernail. This is Ruth closing the shutters. She is shutting down, erecting her walls. Harry slides across the sofa so that he is almost touching her, and then he turns towards her. He reaches out with his hand and stills her fingers, curling his fingers around her own. She doesn't look at him, and he knows she is hurt.

"Ruth," he says. "Look at me."

When she turns his way he can see tears glistening on her eye lashes. With his free hand, he reaches out to wipe under her eyes with his thumb. Then he leans across and kisses her softly. He lingers over the kiss until he feels her responding to him. Then he pulls away.

"I hadn't meant to hurt you, Ruth."

"I'm not hurt. I'm just ….."

"What?"

"I'm pissed off. And if you really must know, I'm embarrassed. No-one appreciates being turned down, especially by someone they …... really fancy."

Harry finds himself smiling at her words. "I'm not turning you down, Ruth. God, I'd have to be mad to turn you down. I'm ….. postponing your offer. I think we both need an early night, then tomorrow night …... maybe then …." Throughout the time he has been struggling to find the right words to say to her, he has been watching her. On the words, _maybe then_, Ruth turns towards him and smiles into his eyes, her hurt apparently forgotten. "It's just that I'm a bit out of my depth here. I'd been expecting to have to beg you to accompany me to the bedroom. When you turned the tables on me, you …..."

"Shocked you?"

"No, not shocked, but you did take me by surprise. I was unprepared …... and I didn't want to appear too …... eager."

"Are you afraid, Harry?"

"Afraid of what?"

"That you'll …. oh, I don't know …... fall short ….. disappoint me?"

"Neither of those. I know that you will be ….. happy with …... what I have to offer you."

Ruth's face breaks into a wide smile, and then she chuckles quietly.

"What is it?" he asks, slightly bewildered.

"We're talking about going to bed together …... or not …... and yet we've managed to avoid using the words bed, sleep, sex, or anything racier."

"I was trying to be polite, Ruth. I hadn't wanted to scare you off."

"It will take more than that to frighten me."

Harry sighs, clasping her hand tighter in his own. He wants to kiss her again, but he doesn't wish to be placing temptation in their path …... now that they know their desire for the other is reciprocated. "There is something which worries me, though," he says quietly.

"What?"

"Your ….. fear of what others might say should they find out …... that we're …..."

"Dating."

"Yes. Dating. You can't use that as an excuse again, Ruth. It's too distressing."

"I know."

"And if the others find out we're even closer …... then of course they will gossip for a while, but we can't allow that to come between us."

When Ruth doesn't say anything Harry watches her face carefully. She is gazing up at him with fear in her eyes. "I'll try," she says after some time.

"We can see one another in secret, but after a while – maybe in a month or so – something is sure to give us away."

"I know."

"And we can't allow a bit of office gossip to stop us seeing one another away from work."

Ruth nods, and then looks down at where their hands are still linked on her knee, over the spot where she'd scratched at the material of her skirt, anxiety overwhelming her.

"Ruth ….. look at me." She looks up at him, and again he can see the fear in her eyes. "I can protect you now. We're …... closer now than we were ... before, and if you ever feel afraid or anxious or …... that others are bothering you, please ….. _please_ tell me first, and don't end what we have here. It's too precious, too ….. delicate … to have it thrown away by stupid office gossip, which is little more than the product of small and idle minds."

"Do you consider Malcolm to have a small and idle mind, Harry?"

"No, I don't, but then ….. he wasn't gossiping. He was passing on his good wishes. Beneath the surface of their words they all care, Ruth."

Ruth nods, and then pours them each another mug of coffee. They sit over their drinks in silence, each with plenty to think about. When Harry begins again to make noises about it being time for him to head home, Ruth, who has been thinking deeply, speaks.

"I was thinking, Harry …... about tomorrow night ..."

"Yes?" His eyes brighten, as he watches her choose her words carefully. He has deliberately not pushed to see her again soon. He needs to give her time, and if the next time they see one another is her idea, then that is even better.

"Neither of us has to work Sunday." Harry nods, detecting where she is headed. "I would like it were we to …. eat here after work. I am quite a good cook when I put my mind to it. You've given me two lovely dinners, so I would like to cook a meal for you …... here ….. and if afterwards we …... things ….. head in a certain direction, then …..."

"Are you asking me to stay the night, Ruth?" Harry's voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

Ruth nods, smiling despite her apparent anxiety over having to be so blunt.

"Alright," Harry replies, squeezing her hand in his. "That sounds …. wonderful."

This time, having gained a commitment of sorts from Ruth, Harry disengages from her and begins preparing to leave. Ruth accompanies him to the front door, where they stand a little apart, not touching. They each feel a little awkward, having spent the evening successfully navigating the obstacles which had come between them after their first dinner together. Harry wants to touch her, kiss her goodnight, but nor does he wish to assume anything.

"Don't you want to kiss me?" Ruth asks, and he almost laughs aloud, chiefly with relief.

He settles for a smile as he steps closer to her, grasping her hand in his. With her free hand Ruth grasps his jacket and pulls him closer. This is the first time they have hugged. Very slowly Harry winds his arms around her and pulls her against him. After a minute or so, during which he is sure he has stopped breathing, he pulls away slightly to check how she is travelling. With one hand Ruth reaches up and cups his cheek, caressing his jaw with her thumb. He can do nothing else. He leans down and places his lips on hers. The kiss begins carefully, and then when Harry feels Ruth push herself against him, he allows the kiss to become passionate. It is Ruth who pulls out of the kiss first. Harry could have stayed there all night, just kissing her, holding her, knowing that this time tomorrow they will be climbing the stairs together.

"The sooner you go home, the sooner tomorrow will be here," she says playfully.

"I like your logic," he replies, reaching down to kiss her one more time.

They hear the taxi pull up outside, and so Harry quickly leaves, turning as he reaches the gate to see that she is watching him from the doorway. He gives her a small wave and climbs into the car. How things have changed.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: A little M-ish at times.**_

* * *

The next day is Saturday, and Harry spends most of the day away from the Grid. As much as he misses seeing Ruth, he is relieved that he'll not be distracted by her presence in his line of vision. His meeting with the Home Secretary and the Foreign Secretary lasts almost four hours, and after a sandwich eaten on the run, he rushes to meet an asset in South London. Harry is on his way back to the Grid when he receives a call from Oliver Mace, Chairman of the JIC.

"Harry, are you free at six o'clock? I need a word."

"Not really, and in case you haven't noticed, Oliver, today is Saturday. I have plans for the evening."

"Well, change them. This is important. I've also summoned the heads of Sections A and C, neither of whom had any complaints."

_Sycophants, both_. "And where is this meeting to be held?"

"Thames House. Sixth floor. No excuses, Harry. I need you here."

Harry hurries back to the Grid to find only Adam and Ros, both sitting at her desk, cups of coffee in front of them. He strides across the floor to them, taking in the empty Grid around them. "Where is everybody?" he asks, when what he means is `Where is Ruth?'

"They've all gone home, Harry," Adam says. "Everyone. Even Ruth. In fact, Ruth left at 4.30."

"I think she has a hot date," Ros purrs, her eyes on Harry, gauging his reaction.

"Right," Harry replies, his face deadpan. "I suppose she's entitled to a social life …... like everyone else."

"It certainly looks that way," Ros adds. "And now it's me leaving. I have sleep to be catching up on. And …... Harry …... Oliver Mace wants to speak with you."

"He already has."

"Slimy sod. I say never trust a man with beady eyes and a bad attitude," she continues as she stands, pushing her coffee cup towards Adam, and then sliding her arms into the sleeves of her jacket as she shrugs it over her shoulders. Harry is already half way to his office, Adam on his heels.

Harry," Adam says, sliding the office door closed behind him. "I've heard about something happening at Cotterdam Prison."

"Heard what? I'm busy. I have a couple of things to do before I go upstairs."

"I'm not sure, but it's something to do with that fire earlier in the week."

"If you consider it to be important, then look into it, and bring your report to our meeting Monday morning. I have tomorrow off."

"So does Ruth."

"Your point being?"

"No point, Harry. I just thought if you had the day off, and she has the day off, you might want to -"

"Thank you, Adam. Is that all?" Harry fights to suppress his short temper.

Adam nods. When Harry points towards the door, Adam takes the hint and leaves, a small smile still on his lips.

With only ten minutes until he has to be upstairs, Harry rings Ruth on her mobile. He explains the situation to her, apologising all the way.

"Harry …. this is something out of your control. You have no reason to be apologising. I understand what your job entails. I've already begun cooking, so I'll make our meal, and you can eat yours when you get here."

"But ….. that might not be until midnight."

"Whatever the time, I expect you here. We have a date and I've promised to give you dinner. Just text me when you're on your way."

Harry can't believe the change in Ruth. Had this been happening a week earlier she would not have been this relaxed. She would have used it as an excuse to draw away from him. As he hangs up, promising to get there at his earliest opportunity, he hopes he'll not be too tired to fulfill the plans they have for after dinner.

* * *

When Ruth opens her front door to Harry it is a little after 10 o'clock.

"You've changed," she says, reaching up to receive his kiss. To her, he appears weary and careworn.

"I walked out of the meeting at 8.30, so I've been home to shower and change," he says, placing his holdall on the floor just inside the doorway. He smiles down at Ruth and again kisses her, this time with more feeling, sliding his hands around her waist. Ruth pulls out of the kiss and directs him upstairs to her bedroom.

"It's the second door on the left," she says. "If you have anything which needs hanging, there's some room in my wardrobe. I've already eaten, but I've kept your plate warm for you."

Harry smiles as he begins to mount the stairs. He's tired, but only because for two and a half hours he'd kept his mouth shut, resisting the urge to get up from his chair and punch Oliver Mace in the mouth. When he reaches Ruth's bedroom he opens the door and turns on the light. The contrast with his own bedroom at home is immediately evident. Ruth's room is vibrant with colour and feels homely and warm and inviting. He will enjoy sleeping in here. After hanging his spare trousers, shirt and jacket in her wardrobe next to her clothes, he places his holdall on the floor out of the way. He heads towards the bed and tests it for firmness, then he turns and sits in the edge of the mattress, gazing at the bed behind him, imagining he and Ruth together …. naked ….. under the duvet.

"I see you've made yourself at home," comes Ruth's voice from the doorway.

Harry quickly turns, feeling a tiny bit embarrassed to be caught sitting on her bed. "I was just -"

"Testing it. That's fine, Harry. After all, that's where you'll be spending the night."

"With you, I hope."

Ruth has ambled to the bed, and sits on the mattress next to him. "Definitely with me."

Harry senses the tension between them. He watches her carefully, so that when she falls back on to the mattress he lets himself flop down beside her. They turn towards one another and are soon kissing hungrily, his fingers caressing the soft skin of her neck and shoulders underneath the collar of her blouse, while her fingers slide between the buttons of his shirt, finding his bare skin. He shudders, pushing his hips against her, so that his rapidly growing erection nestles against her pubic bone. He wants this. He wants her ….. desperately. Ruth moans into his mouth and pushes back, and he gasps into her mouth. They can't stop kissing, don't want to stop kissing. He slides his arms around her, pressing his fingers against her lower spine, pulling her flush against him - from chest to thighs - revelling in the warmth generated by their two bodies as they cling together. Suddenly, unexpectedly, Ruth slides one leg over his hip so that her skirt rides up and his arousal is pressed against her underwear. Only three layers of fabric - her lacy underwear and his underwear and trousers - separating his tight flesh from her moist centre. He pushes himself closer to her so that he feels the heat emanating from her. _I really really want this_, he thinks, as he continues to kiss her, deep and passionate kisses which have him growling into her mouth. Along with the roast lamb he can taste her want, her desire for him. He has to take control – now - before they end up in a quick and untidy shag, their clothes bunched around her waist and his knees. Reluctantly, he begins to pull out of the kiss, pulling his hips away from her, so that she removes her leg from around him. This movement elicits a moan of complaint from Ruth.

"Harry," she says, opening her eyes to look at him. Her eyebrows are drawn together in disapproval, and her lips are flushed and swollen, no doubt like another part of her.

"That was -" His breathing is still rapid and deep.

"Wonderful," Ruth murmurs.

"A little too much too soon. It was a preview of -"

"Things to come?"  
He lets out a long breath, emitting a low laugh, his attempt to break the tension between them, and to bring his body under control. He stares down at her, certain that this is not the same Ruth who ran from him just over a week ago. His arms still surround her, his fingers splayed across her back, and against his hips he can feel hers still pressing against him. He wants this almost more than he wants to draw his next breath, but he has to stop this now. He quickly disengages from her by rolling away from her, then he sits up and adjusts his clothing. He can't do a whole lot about his erection. It will settle once he gains distance from her. "I think I might need feeding and watering first," he says, gazing down at her with barely disguised lust.

* * *

Ruth has cooked roast lamb for dinner, and Harry is hungry. He wolfs down the lamb and vegetables, offering her his compliments at every opportunity, while she sits opposite him, sipping her wine.

"This is about the best meal I've ever eaten, Ruth. How did you know I love gravy?" He tries to keep the conversation light, but they both know that what happened upstairs has changed everything between them. The air between them is still heavy with tension.

"I assumed you'd enjoy home cooked food."

"I do. Will you marry me?" His words, meant in jest, have Ruth sitting back in her chair. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It was meant as a joke, but it's ….."

"Perhaps not the right time for a marriage proposal, Harry."

"No. I'm sorry, Ruth. The next time I ask you, I'll treat the subject more seriously."

"If you ask me again, Harry, I just might have to say yes."

Ruth's tone is light, but as they watch one another across the table, Harry is sure she means what she says. He nods, smiling. "I'll keep that in mind," he says, his voice almost hoarse. As he finishes his roast meal, his stomach is flipping over and over, and he can barely look at her for fear she'll know what he's thinking. He has no difficulty keeping his hands steady, but he is sure that in his eyes she can read his deep longing for her.

"I've made apple crumble," Ruth adds, once Harry takes his last mouthful of potato and gravy.

"Just a small serving for me. No cream. I'm watching my weight."

"What if I watch it for you?"

Harry can barely believe this is happening. He takes his time over his sweets, and then as he finishes he sits back and pats his stomach. "That was magnificent, Ruth. I may never have to eat again."

Ruth smiles with pleasure as she removes his plate, taking it to the sink. They sit at the table, each with a glass of white wine in front of them. Harry is beginning to flag with weariness, and he stifles a yawn. He can't bear feeling tired, not now, not when he wants to go to bed with Ruth, and especially after what happen upstairs before dinner. Perhaps he shouldn't have stopped them. Suddenly he regrets having taken control the way he did. Sometimes he can be a fool where Ruth is concerned.

"Do you want to talk about your day, Harry?" she says at last. After all, she has become his confidante, both personally as well as professionally.

"Not especially," he replies. "There's something nasty stirring in a portion of the members of the JIC. Oliver Mace wants me to come on board with a number of the others who are advocating torture as the default method for dealing with terrorists. I'm appalled, and I told him so. I tried to argue my point, but in the end I realised my pleas were falling on deaf ears."

"That's …. awful."

"It is. He told me that the culture is changing, and I need to keep up. To be honest, Ruth, if that is what I have to sanction in the future, then I will have outgrown this job."

"If you leave, I'll leave with you."

Harry's eyes flash as he looks across the table at Ruth. "You have your whole career ahead of you, Ruth. Don't throw it away because of me."

"I won't be throwing it away because of you. I will walk away in protest ….. if Mace gets his way."

Harry twists his mouth sideways. "I don't think our protests will be noticed."

They watch one another wordlessly, although their silent dialogue is quite clear to each of them.

Eventually Harry announces that he is tired and that he needs to head to bed.

"I'll tidy up here and then I'll join you," Ruth adds.

By the time Ruth enters her bedroom it is approaching midnight, and she finds Harry turned on his side under the duvet, his shoulders moving steadily with his breathing. He is asleep. Ruth quietly prepares for bed and joins him under the duvet. She slides closer to him, close enough so that she is lying against his broad back, his buttocks tucked against the tops of her thighs. She slides one arm around his waist and tucks her hand against his stomach, over his t-shirt. She then stretches her legs until she can wrap her feet around Harry's ankles. His body is very warm, and he moves slowly and rhythmically in time with his breathing. Lying like this Ruth feels safe and warm and comfortable. She rests her head against his back, and as she closes her eyes she wonders why it was she took so long to allow Harry into her life.

* * *

When Ruth wakes it is 8 o'clock and she is in bed alone. She rolls onto her back and listens. She is sure she can hear water running in the bathroom down the hall. Then it turns off. Then it turns on once more. She closes her eyes, wondering whether Harry is getting ready to go into work, or – she hopes – preparing to return to bed. She doesn't have long to wait. She hears the toilet flush, and then the water running in the hand basin, and less than a minute later Harry quietly enters the bedroom, his bathrobe open at the front so that she can see he's wearing the same dark grey track pants and a pale blue t-shirt which he wore to bed.

Seeing her awake, he hurries to the bed and leans over her and kisses her. He tastes like toothpaste, and she can smell his cologne on his cheeks. "You've shaved," she says, lifting a hand to run her fingers over his smooth cheek.

"I thought I'd better."

Ruth lifts one side of the duvet, so he shuffles off his bathrobe, and slides across the mattress to lie beside her. Ruth suddenly feels very nervous. Their tumble on the bed the night before had been wonderful, but it had been spontaneous … and frantic and desperate, and …. and so, so needed. She hadn't the time to work herself into a state of nervousness. This morning, with his body lying so close to her, his pupils dilated, his expression one of expectation and desire, she is beginning to think too much, and all she can come up with are reasons why they should wait just a little longer ….. until she is feeling braver. "I'm ….. a little nervous," she says.

Harry slides an arm around her and pulls her closer to him. Then he kisses her – slowly, tenderly, and with only the barest hint of passion. "Better?" he says once he has pulled away from her.

She nods. "A little. It's just that …... it's been a while since I've done this."

"It's been a while for me, too. I thought …. after last night …. that we'd be rather spectacular …. at this."

Ruth smiles and nods, thinking that as unlikely as this pairing is, in some ways it's just about perfect. She gently extricates herself from his embrace. "I need to go ….. you know."

"Of course," he says, as Ruth leaves the bed to head for the bathroom.

In a little over five minutes Ruth is back in bed. She shuffles across the mattress to lie close to Harry, himself lying on his back, watching her every move. This time it is Ruth who leans over him and kisses him. This time there is no excuse for them to be stopping or leaving the bed. This time the kisses are long and deep and passionate. This time their hands wander under clothing, fingertips seeking bare skin, just as heat seeks out heat, while garments are discarded. Once they are both naked under the duvet, hands, palms, fingers, lips familiarise them each with the other as they kiss over and over.

"Let me see you," he says, his voice deep and charged with arousal.

Harry lifts the duvet from his own body, slowly sliding it down so that it rests just above the tip of his erection. He reaches across Ruth to do the same, but she beats him to it, pushing it down to level with her waist.

"Dear God," he says, reaching out to touch her abdomen, his touch light and respectful, as his fingers glide over her skin, his thumb caressing the underside of one breast so that she gasps at his touch. "You're exquisite, Ruth."

The minutes tick by, their exploration of each other occupying them fully. When Harry hovers above her, quietly suggesting to her that `It's time, Ruth,' she is ready. She reaches out, placing her palms against the muscles of his lower back, while her fingers press into the flesh of his buttocks, pulling him towards her. This time heat finds heat as they join. Both sigh their relief as they sink against each other.

* * *

They are wrapped together, dozing in post coital haze, when Harry's phone rings.

"Fuck," he says quietly to himself when he reads the name of the caller. "Sorry, Ruth. I have to take this." He extricates himself from her embrace, and climbs out of bed, walking towards the doorway naked, his phone held against his ear. Ruth is admiring his rear view when she hears him say, "Adam – this had better be important."


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: This is more epilogue than chapter, and I have disposed of the plot in record time in order to accommodate the love story (rather than the other way around). Thank you to all those who have followed this fic to the end, and especially to those of you who have left reviews.**_

* * *

Next day – The Grid:

Ruth has not seen Harry since the evening before. Once they left her bed, they had spent the day together, and apart from a visit to a local Sunday market, they simply pottered around, reading newspapers, watching a DVD of _Mission Impossible III_, which Ruth ony tolerated, but Harry enjoyed a little too much. They had an early dinner of scrambled eggs on toast, which Harry prepared in Ruth's kitchen, and afterwards they climbed the stairs to Ruth's bedroom to again make love.

"I have to get to work by 7 tomorrow morning, Ruth," Harry said as they lay quietly in bed afterwards. "I'll leave here soon, because I'll need an early night, and I doubt I could manage that if I stayed here with you."

As disappointed as Ruth had been, she also understood what he was saying. There will always be times when his job will come before his relationship with her, and for her to feel miffed or jealous about that is just a waste of her energy. If she wants to be with Harry, she has to grow up, and fast.

* * *

Harry calls a meeting for 8.30 am. His team wanders into the meeting room – Adam and Ros, followed by Zaf and Jo, and lastly, Malcolm and Ruth. He catches her eye, and just as quickly breaks eye contact with her. While at work it is not difficult to hide their relationship, despite his desire to watch everything Ruth does, all the time remembering her look of bliss as he'd moved inside her. The team take their seats around the table, and as usual, Ruth sits across the corner from him, and Malcolm sits on her other side. Since the 24 hours they spent together in Ruth's house, Harry's awareness of her presence is heightened. Despite that, he begins the meeting, his demeanour as professional as always.

"You have all been briefed about the fire at Cotterdam Prison," Harry begins. "Adam, I believe you have the latest."

"I have. In the early hours of Sunday morning an image was placed on the internet." Adam operates the remote control which brings up an image on the screen in front of them. "The image of these seven men was taken three days ago ….. in Egypt. They are believed to be the same seven men – terror suspects – who died in the fire at Cotterdam prison six days ago. It is in Egypt that they were tortured for information. Harry has more."

"Saturday evening I had a ….. revealling meeting with Oliver Mace. He advocated using torture to …. intimidate was his word, but I suspect he means coerce …. terror suspects. He believes that it will be an effective deterrent to use in the war on terror. My concern is that these seven men are just the tip of the iceberg."

"We're aware that torture is being used in Afghanistan," Zaf chips in.

"What happens in Afghanistan is out of our field of influence," Harry adds. He turns to each of his team in turn. "There was a new development this morning. Adam?"

"The chief of security for south-east prisons – which includes Cotterdam Prison – this morning committed suicide."

"How?" Jo asks.

"He threw himself off a platform and under a moving train. There were at least ten witnesses who all saw him deliberately step off the platform, just as the train moved towards him. His death is not considered suspicious." Adam pauses.

"Except that there is no reason that we know for him to have taken his life," Ros continues, "and we believe – Adam and I – that his death is linked to the fire at the prison and the torure of the terrorists in Egypt."

"Ros and I will follow up the terrorists. We need evidence to link their torture to Mr Mace." Adam looks around the table. "Zaf, I want you and Jo to look into the life of Mik Maudsley, the prison's security chief. Check him out. We want to know him like we know a member of our immediate family. We need his phone records for the past three months. We need his banking details, his family details. He was married, so we need everything you can dig up on Jennifer Maudsley as well. When you collect the data, give it to Malcolm. That's about it for us. Harry is keeping an eye on Mace, and -"

"What about me? You haven't given me a job." Ruth looks up into Adam's face, but he is deliberately ignoring her.

"I need you working with me," Harry says quietly.

Ruth is about to object when Harry calls an end to the meeting, reminding them all of the need for speed and treading carefully.

"I'll be like a fairy," Zaf says.

"So what else is new?" Jo says, getting up from her chair and heading towards the door.

Zaf follows, attempting to explain himself to Jo, and Ros and Adam follow them, while Malcolm is the last one through the door. This leaves Ruth and Harry alone in the room. Harry can feel Ruth's irritation in the air between them.

"Ruth," he begins, but she is not about to be talked down to.

"Harry, the very least you could have done was to discuss this with me first. I felt ….. like your ….. _secretary_."

Harry turns in his chair and leans towards her, being careful to not touch her. "We both know perfectly well you're not my secretary, Ruth. I'm sorry I didn't discuss this with you first, but -"

"You could have warned me. You could have told me yesterday ….. after Adam rang you."

Harry pulls back as though slapped. "Ruth …... yesterday was for us. I wanted to keep work away from us …... just for the day. You must know that."

Suddenly Ruth lets go of her outrage, like air leaving a balloon. "I know that, and I know why you did that. Thank you. I just needed …... warning."

"Ruth ….. I want to keep you away from the worst of this. I fear that underneath this whole Cotterdam thing is something nasty and quite dangerous. I don't want you to be harmed …... in any way. And you must know why that is."

"Harry, you can't protect me from these things," she says quietly.

"As your boss I need to at least make an effort at protecting you, given your work takes place at a desk, and as your ….."

"Boyfriend?"

Harry grimaces, giving an eye roll for emphasis.

"Partner, then."

"Yes. As your partner, I'd be remiss if I didn't at least make an effort to keep the likes of Mace and Co away from you."

Ruth sits back, watching him. On the one hand she is pleased, but his high-handedness still irritates. Still, were he to throw her into the fray, she wouldn't be happy with that, either. "Won't the others notice? It looks like I'm receiving special treatment."

"As I intimated, Ruth, you are a desk agent, and not a field agent. I need you to work with Malcolm on this. I want you to look into Mace's communications – to and from his office."

"Isn't that …. dangerous?"

"Potentially, yes, but I believe Malcolm and Colin had developed an encryption to be used at this end for …... intercepting electronic communications within Thames House."

"Spies spying on each other?"

Harry nods. "I believe it's rather clever, as well as simple, and safe. The encryption at this end covers …. our own digital footprint."

"I can remember Colin talking about it, but I was sure it was just in the ideas stage."

"There's something else."

"Harry?"

"As much as I don't want our working lives to interfere with our …. personal connection, for the next 48 hours I will be fully occupied with gathering some like-minded section chiefs and heads ….. like a posse. We need to gather information on Mace, and it needs to be water tight, and I will be looking for backup from my peers. If you and Malcolm handle the electronic side of things and I deal with the face to face communication, then I give us 48 hours, and we'll have this wrapped up. We know what's happening. All we need is proof. So ….. during that time, to be on the safe side …..."

"We shouldn't see one another outside work. Is that what you're saying?"

"Yes. That's what I'm saying."

Ruth thinks for a moment, imagining not kissing Harry for two whole days.

"We need to be discreet, Ruth. If Mace even suspects that you and I are together, that we have ….. what we have …. then you could be in danger."

Again, Ruth hesitates. "Alright. I see your point. Now ….. I'd better check out this encryption with Malcolm," she says, standing and preparing to leave.

"Just one moment," Harry says, grasping her hand. He stands, steps closer to her, and then leans down to kiss her. It is a quick kiss, but still a kiss. "We might not get the chance to do that again for …..."

"Two days."

He nods, and they smile into one another's eyes. When the door opens suddenly, Harry quickly drops her hand.

"Harry, I think we have something. Malcolm has already intercepted Mace's emails to four other members of the JIC. The content is just the sort of thing we're looking for."

"Game on," Harry says, glancing once more at Ruth, and then following Adam out of the meeting room.

* * *

In the end it takes until the end of the week before the operation is all but wrapped up. Under pressure from Harry, who has threatened to publically expose Mace, the JIC Chairman has handed in his resignation, along with his four cronies, also members of the JIC. Mik Maudsley is exonerated, there being no clear connection between him and the removal of the terrorists from the Cotterdam Prison. The only dark spot is that Jennifer Maudsley has announced her intention to sue the prison service. Harry had spoken with her in private, but she is intent on going ahead with legal action on her husband's behalf. "I'm doing this for Mik, not for me," she'd said. He can see her point, but he still believes she'd be safer were she to let it go.

It is late Friday night and Ruth and Harry are sitting over a takeaway Chinese meal at his dining table. Ruth has brought a small bag with a change of clothes for the next day.

"I've been thinking," Ruth says, stirring the sweet and sour sauce into her special fried rice. "I'm considering coming clean to the team."

Harry looks up at her, his eyes showing his surprise. "What about? You haven't been stealing flash drives from the stationery cupboard again, have you?"

"No, of course not. I thought I should come clean about us. You and me. It's not quite right that you make the announcement. That would make it sound like you own me, but I could do it."

"Why do it at all, Ruth, when they already know?"

"They do?"

"Of course. Monday morning, when Adam came into the meeting room after we'd kissed …... once he and I were outside the room he asked me had you and I had a lovers' tiff."

"What did you say?"

"I said we hadn't, and that we were just catching up."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing. It's nothing out of the ordinary to him or to the others, so if you make a special announcement -"

"I'll look like a fool."

"No, Ruth. It will appear that you are behind the eight ball."

"That means the same thing."

"Perhaps."

They both concentrate on finishing their dinner. When Ruth places her fork beside her plate, she sits back in her chair, satisfied. "I need a shower …... and then I'm keen to try out your bed."

Harry gazes at her from across the table. "And I'm supposing you mean for more than sleeping."

"Well …. that will depend, Mr Pearce."

"On what?"

"On whether you are quick enough to join me in the shower, because whoever showers with me automatically gets to sleep with me."

Harry quickly gets up from the table, gathering their plates and utensils and carrying them to the sink. "Don't start without me, Ruth," he calls to her as she is about to leave the room.

"As if I'd want to." And then she slowly climbs the stairs, giving Harry ample time to catch up.

_Fin_


End file.
